


If Wishes Were Horses

by perdiccas



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: AU, Angst, Dubious Consent, M/M, Prostitute AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-15
Updated: 2009-07-15
Packaged: 2017-10-02 10:51:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perdiccas/pseuds/perdiccas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. What if Samson were still selling 17 year old Gabriel out of roadside diners?</p>
            </blockquote>





	If Wishes Were Horses

Gabriel slouched as he walked into the diner, head bowed as he followed five steps behind the trucker he’d just blown. He slid into a corner booth and passed his dad a roll of twenties under the table.

“Wipe your mouth,” Samson muttered, handing Gabriel a napkin with one hand and pocketing the cash with the other.

“We’ll have lunch here and then we need to get back on the road, kiddo.” He flashed a winning smile at a passing waitress and got a refill for his coffee. “Want a chocolate malt?”

Gabriel nodded and the waitress beamed and no one but he and Samson knew what Samson really meant: suck off the lunch rush here, Gabriel, and we can have you turning tricks in the next town by nightfall.

Gabriel glanced at the Deputy Sheriff perched at the counter. He must have turned up while Gabriel was sucking cock in the passenger seat of a big rig. His brown shirt strained over his paunch as he shovelled spoonful after spoonful of apple pie into his mouth. There were crumbs caught in his scraggly moustache and his laugh echoed around the room as he flirted with the waitresses and slapped their asses. It wasn’t like Samson to flaunt what they did under the eyes of the local law. Gabriel inclined his head slightly towards him, nudging his dad’s shoe with his foot to point him out and got a swift kick for his trouble.

“Do you think I’m stupid, Gabriel?” his father said, deceptively calm. Gabriel knew he’d get a beating for this later, a flurry of punches to his ribs and stomach, kicks to his sides and a knee to the groin, anywhere but his face because Samson didn’t do anything to jeopardise their bottom line. “He’s up next. Second stall on the right.”

Gabriel felt sick, but feeling sick seemed like his default state of being. He couldn’t remember a time when what he did or who he did were his decision to make, so he stood without complaining and made his way discreetly to the men’s room. The stalls were narrow and flimsy, the floor was disgusting and no matter how many times he did this, Gabriel’s skin still crawled at the thought of getting to his knees on tiles stained with god knows what.

He grabbed a handful of paper towels from the dispensers and ventured into the second stall, doing his best to make things more hygienic. He closed the toilet lid and wiped it down in case he needed to bend over it later and scrubbed ineffectually at any spot where he thought he might need to put his hands. When Samson handed over his cut of the cash later, pocket hand sanitizer would be the first thing on Gabriel’s wish list.

By the time the Deputy Sheriff came in, red faced and pig eyed, Gabriel had stretched out to his full height against the back wall of the stall. He straddled the toilet in a way that pushed his hips out and made his t-shirt, old and several sizes too tight, ride up his flat tummy. His eyes were half closed and he knew the john would take it for arousal when Gabriel’s only desire was to shut out how repulsive this all was.

He didn’t say anything, barely acknowledging that Gabriel was there at all as he pushed down on his shoulder and unzipped his fly, feeding his cock in Gabriel’s open mouth. The dark of night was when people talked dirty or whispered sweet nothings in Gabriel’s ear; when they got their midday jollies they just wanted a suck and a fuck and a chance to go back to their lives without looking back. Gabriel breathed through his nose and hollowed his cheeks, sucking on a cock that tasted stale and sweaty and vaguely unclean. He wanted to close his eyes and pretend this wasn’t happening but shutting it out only got you beaten up, and getting beaten up meant Samson would thrash him within an inch of his life for ‘limiting their cash flow’. Except it never really did, it was just that the sick bastards that liked to fuck the boys that looked abused tipped big the more bruised Gabriel’s pale skin was.

Chubby fingers clutched at his hair and his head was pulled forward brutally. He relaxed his jaw and opened his mouth wider, blinking back involuntary tears as his throat was fucked raw. When the Deputy Sheriff came, it was with an appropriately animalistic grunt. Gabriel turned his face away to spit into the toilet what hadn’t already slipped down his throat. He cleaned up the john while he was still on the floor, tucked him in and zipped him up.

He gave his best fake smile and the asshole pressed a couple of bucks into his hand. “Your dad and I worked out a deal, but you earned that.”

Gabriel wondered if he should warn the waitresses what a shitty tipper he was.

Gabriel started to stand but a knee to his chest stopped him. He tensed up a little, knowing that the way he hunched over and faded into the background made most people miss how tall he was in actuality, how much wiry muscle there was underpinning the lankiness of his frame. There’s no way Samson would have negotiated anything more than a blow for the rights to fleece this rinky dink diner and Gabriel didn’t give out freebies, even to men with badges. If it came to it, he could throw this guy off, superior weight and all. He’d take the punishment from his dad without flinching rather than let this sleaze touch him again without cash upfront.

“Listen up, punk,” he said, spitting a little as he spoke and sneering down at Gabriel. “It doesn’t matter how pretty you suck, I get a complaint about you and I’ll bust your ass to county lockup. You got that?”

Gabriel nodded. The knee on his chest pressed into him more painfully; there’d be a bruise there later, a bruise that would make another john think leaving bruises were okay and after awhile, Gabriel would be black and blue all over, begging Samson for a day or two off.

Gabriel lingered in the men’s room as much to give himself a few minutes respite as it was to give the john a chance to get back to his seat. He neatened his hair and straightened his clothes, and when he got back to his table, he’d expertly rearranged his face so anyone who might be looking would think him just another bored teenager stuck with his dad for a summer road trip. He took a long sip of the chocolate malt waiting for him and let the sickly sweetness of it wash away the bitter taste in his mouth.

“You look worn out,” Samson said. “Take five and come back to me looking a bit more energetic, okay?”

“Sure thing, Dad,” he muttered. ‘Worn out’ meant he looked used up and he wouldn’t earn any more than twenty bucks a suck. ‘Worn out’ meant his mask was slipping; no one wanted to buy a prostitute who looked like they didn’t want to be sold. ‘Worn out’ meant “Get your shit together, Gabriel, or you’ll really know what a hard life is.” He took his cigarettes and went to sit in the sun in peace.

He leaned against the diner’s back wall, letting the sun warm him and chase away the dark memories of everything he’d done already today. Smoke curled around his head and the nicotine that whispered through him with every inhale calmed the jitters in his hands. Samson was right, he’d needed the break.

A clipped voice startled Gabriel out of his reverie. “Could I bum a fag?”

“What?” Gabriel eyed the frowning kid in front of him. He was cute and young, with exotic dark skin and wild black curls. Gabriel found himself revising his policy on freebies.

“Oh sorry,” he said, as he bit his lip. Gabriel thought he could see a blush darkening his cheeks. “A cigarette, do you mind if I…?”

“Oh, yeah, sure.” Gabriel grinned back too, fumbling only a little as he handed one over, and lit it up for him. The kid took a few quick puffs and bent over, coughing his lungs out. Gabriel slapped him on the back, trying to keep back a laugh but when the kid started laughing too, he couldn’t control his giggles.

“I’m sorry,” he wheezed between chuckles. “I don’t usually smoke. Just when it’s this or snap.”

Gabriel nodded. He felt the same way too; Gabriel smoke two packs a day. “So what’s stressing you out… er…?”

“Mohinder,” he said, that same bright smile still on his face.

“I’m Gabriel.”

“Gabriel,” Mohinder said, trying it out like it was name he hadn’t said before. He rolled the ‘r’ and stretched out the vowels and Gabriel thought his name had never sounded so beautiful. When Mohinder said it, it could be an angel’s name after all. But then he sighed and his smile was gone. There was an angry furrow between his eyebrows as he muttered, “My father is what’s stressing me out.”

Gabriel vaguely recalled an older guy, same complexion, sitting across the diner from them. He’d sort of heard them arguing but Gabriel didn’t like to eavesdrop. More often than not he’d hear things that he’d rather not; people who thought because of what he did, they could talk about him like he wasn’t human, a “piece of filth” and a “hot slice of jailbait ass”.

“What’s he on your case about?”

“Everything,” Mohinder said with a long dramatic sigh. “We’re on this pointless trip in this hellish middle of nowhere town---no offence. Everywhere we go people laugh at us, and he thinks I’m being disrespectful when I say we should go home early. University starts in two months and I haven’t even started on the reading list they sent. And if that isn’t bad enough, I have to sit with him in a car all day while he plays the most outdated Bollywood music and lectures me on how I should be getting married soon.”

“That’s pretty bad,” Gabriel said, biting back the part of himself that wanted to snap about how good Mohinder had it. A pretty face bought a lot of leeway.

“You have no idea,” Mohinder wailed. He threw up his hands and slid down the wall, pouting.

“I dunno,” Gabriel said, crouching down beside him. “My old man can be a real piece of work too.”

“Yeah?” Mohinder said but he was distracted, still wallowing in his own misery and not really listening because no one ever did.

“Yeah,” Gabriel muttered, fingers rubbing at the bruise on his chest where the john’s knee had caught him.

They sat and smoked in silence, each thinking about their own fathers and their own troubles, sharing the same space but nothing more. Then, Mohinder groaned and stubbed out his cigarette.

“I suppose I should go back and try to be civil.” He flashed that smile again and Gabriel thought he was so much better looking when he didn’t scowl. He thought Mohinder didn’t know how pretty he was any more than he knew how lucky he was.

“Thank you,” Mohinder said, indicating the spent cig on the ground, standing as he wiped his hands on the back of his jeans.

“Mohinder?” Gabriel said because when you have nothing, you have nothing to lose. He leaned forward and kissed Mohinder, stepping closer and cupping a hand at the back of his neck. His fingertips sunk into those dark, messy curls while in his other hand, Gabriel’s cigarette still burned where he held it at his side.

Mohinder’s lips where dry from the smoke but soft and pliant, parting easily when Gabriel’s tongue darted out to wet them. He leaned a little closer, nervous hands clutching at Gabriel’s hips, a small shy moan escaping into Gabriel’s mouth. Gabriel kissed him until his eyes fluttered shut and he laced his fingers behind Gabriel’s neck, and when they finally broke apart, it was with a groaning reluctance, dipping back in to litter small kisses to the corners of each other’s mouths.

Gabriel licked his lips and Mohinder cleared his throat. He tugged awkwardly at his clothes and half-turned away, adjusting himself so that he could face the diner once more. He blushed and chuckled and Gabriel laughed too to put him at his ease, hating that he was using the tricks he’d learned from turning tricks.

“I should, uh…” Mohinder was already inching away, looking over his shoulder to check that no one had seen.

“Yeah, sure,” Gabriel said. He watched Mohinder walk away, out from the shadows where they’d secluded themselves and back into the bright, midday sunlight and just when he was about to turn the corner, he called out. “Mohinder?”

“Yes?”

“Give your dad a break. He’s really not that bad.”

Mohinder gave a half-smile and nodded, looking at Gabriel for a long moment before disappearing back inside.

Gabriel checked his watch; he could snatch another few minutes if he didn’t mind getting to his knees almost before his ass hit the diner chair. He lit another cigarette and leaned against the wall, day dreaming about someone who’d listen to his problems and kiss them all away.


End file.
